


The Red, the White, and the Black [Remix]

by Zdenka



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Poetry, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/pseuds/Zdenka
Summary: Once upon a time, two brothers went hunting in the wood together and only one of them came back. Or, the strange and dark fate of King Bernat as told in tale, ballad, poem, and chronicle.





	The Red, the White, and the Black [Remix]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Le Rouge et le Blanc et le Noir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/603793) by [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori) in the [remixrevivalmadness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2018) collection. 



> A remix of Quillori's story "Le Rouge et le Blanc et le Noir," written for Remix Revival 2018 Madness Round.
> 
> Quillori, I started writing this for last year's remix exchange, but I didn't finish it in time. I just slipped it in under the wire this year.

_Excerpt from the traditional ballad variously known as “The Two Brothers,” “Bernat and Tuomas,” and “Bernat of the Black Hand”_

‘I dreamed I was a silver fish  
that sported in the brook;  
there came a cruel fisherman  
and caught me with his hook.

‘I dreamed I was a swift brown hare  
that couched upon the heath;  
a poacher caught me in his snare,  
and so I met my death.

‘I dreamed I was a singing bird  
that perched upon a tree;  
a hunter shot me with his bow  
and I fell down at his feet.’

‘Brother, why grows your face so pale,  
why do you sigh and weep?  
Seldom truly come to pass  
the visions of our sleep.’

‘It was not this, O brother mine,  
that made me shake with fear,  
but that the one who hunted me  
was one who holds me dear.

‘It was not this, O brother mine,  
that struck me with dismay,  
but that the men who wounded me,  
they all three had your face.’

His brother raised his hand and swore,  
if he should turn his foe,  
his hand that now showed clean and white,  
let it turn as black as crow.

His brother swore by all the saints,  
if he should do him wrong,  
then let a curse upon him fall,  
that he should not live long.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a prince, the eldest son of a king, and it pleased him to go hunting in the woods. He went with no attendants except for a single page. When the day became hot, he sat in the shade of the trees to rest and sent his page to bring him some water from the stream.

The page came running back, but without the water. His eyes were very wide, as if he had seen something very wonderful or terrible. “What has happened?” the prince demanded. “Tell me quickly.”

The page stammered and blushed and at last told him that there were two very beautiful maidens sitting by the stream, one all in white and one all in red, singing very sweetly. He was too abashed by their beauty to draw the water.

The prince left the page to watch the horses and went to see for himself, for he suspected there was something unnatural in two beautiful maidens sitting by a spring all alone in the wilderness. But when he reached the stream, he saw not two beautiful maidens, but two grim and grisly old crones; the dress of one was red as blood and the other white as bone.

“Hail, Prince Bernat,” said the woman who was red as blood.

“How do you know my name?” the prince asked. “And where are the two young maidens who my page met just now?” For the old women were quite alone, and there was nowhere for anyone else to hide.

The bone-white woman laughed, with a harsh and grating voice.  “Your page is young and innocent,” she said. “The desires of his heart are simple: he wished to hear the birds singing and to pick some flowers for a girl at court he has his eye on. He wished to see beautiful things, and so we appeared to him as young and beautiful. But the desires of your heart are otherwise; your thoughts are grim and grisly, and so we appear to you.”

“What grisly thoughts are those?” the prince protested.

“Shall I tell you what is in your heart, Prince Bernat?” said the woman red as blood.

The prince felt a cold chill pass through him, but he said, “Speak.”

“Shall I speak, sister, or will you?”

“Let us both tell him, sister!” And they spoke to him each in turn.

“You have a brother.”

“He is young, handsome, and popular.”

“You are the elder and wiser.”

“But the people love him best. Your parents love him best.”

“Sometimes a well-loved younger son has succeeded in place of the elder.”

“He is heedless and thoughtless. If he were king, he could be persuaded to listen to flatterers instead of taking your advice. Who knows what might become of you if his favorites spoke against you?”

The prince was silent for a few moments, and then he said, “It is true. I wish to be certain of being king.”

“That is easily done,” said the blood-red woman.

“Only bring him here to us,” said the bone-white woman. “We so seldom have visitors!”

“As for your little page who wants the Queen’s youngest maid to love him, let him only drink the water of this cold stream, and he will charm her with a voice as sweet as a lark.”

The prince hesitated. “And the price?” he asked.

“You will bring us a young man of royal blood,” said the bone-white woman. “That will be enough--for this time.”

As the prince turned to go, his glance happened to fall on the stream. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, but it seemed to him that in the stream’s reflection there were three sisters, not two—and the third was clad in a gown of darkest black.

The prince went back to where his page waited. “You are a young fool,” he said. “There is no one by the stream.”

“But I saw them, my lord!”

“Then come back with me and show me.” But when they returned, the two women had vanished.

“You see,” the prince said. “You were only dreaming. Splash some water on your face to wake yourself up.”

The prince did not entirely trust the women or their spring of water, and he wanted to see what would happen. Much chagrined, the page splashed his face with water and then drank from the spring, as the prince had known he would. No harm came to the page from drinking, but the prince’s way home was enlivened by the page singing as sweetly as any lark.

The prince returned to the castle with his page, and he half-persuaded himself that it was only a dream, or an illusion. Why should his brother come to harm in those woods? They had hunted or fished there many a time. But the more he told himself he would forget the old women and their words, the more they returned to his mind. At last he determined that he would bring his brother to the woods, as the old women had said.

Bernat went to speak with his brother Tuomas, as he often did. It was not so difficult to turn the conversation to the black trout that only lived in the pool in those same woods, and then his brother wished to go catch them (for he always wished to catch whatever fine or beautiful thing caught his eye). And if the two brothers met two young and beautiful maidens in the woods—at least, Tuomas thought they were beautiful, though to Bernat’s eyes they were as grim and grisly as before—surely he could not be blamed for seeking to spend the night in their house and not in the wilderness. In the morning, Bernat rose and went home alone to the palace.

This is the first tale that is told, and perhaps this is what happened. Bernat watched his brother laugh and flirt with the two women, trying to win their favor. He smiled and did his best to join in the jesting, though he did not try as hard as he could have to please them; they still appeared as grisly hags to him, and he did not think they were entirely human. The two sisters laughed and teased and decided that Tuomas would be the one to share their bed, and Bernat lay down by the fire. The fire died down, and it was almost dark.

Bernat slept soundly all night, and in the morning when he awoke there was no sign of the two lovely maidens and no sign of his brother. He searched and called throughout the wood, but he found nothing save for a few gnawed fragments of bone and a few drops of blood, where a wolf or a fox had been hunting. And even those traces were gone by the time the search party from the palace came back to that place.

This is the second tale that is told, and perhaps this is what happened. Bernat lay half-awake in the darkness, listening to the two maidens praise his brother’s strong arms, his fine long fingers, the pulse beating in his throat, and heard his brother’s laughing replies. And then there were sounds of kissing, and surely it was more courteous not to listen, so he did not truly know when the sounds became those of eating, of chewing and gnawing and lapping up of something good to drink.

Suddenly the horror of it became too much for him. He sprang up and made for the door.

A hand caught his in the darkness; he cried out and struggled to free himself. “Do not fear,” a voice said close by him, and he could not tell which of the sisters it was. “We have made our bargain, and you are safe—for this time.”

Bernat pulled away and fled in mindless terror. He spent the night shivering in the woods, not daring to go back to the house. In the morning he looked at his right hand and saw that it was black, as if he had brushed it in the charred wood of the fire. But when he came to the clear cold stream, he washed his hand there, and it became as clean as it ever was.

This is the third tale that is told, and perhaps this is what happened. Tuomas wished to follow the two maidens, but Bernat felt a sudden pang in his heart, and he regretted what he had done. He caught his brother’s arm to prevent him from going, and said that he must not follow after them, for surely no good would come of it. Tuomas was angry and unwilling to lose the adventure, but Bernat at last persuaded him. They made their camp in the woods and slept outside beneath the trees. As soon as he lay down, Bernat was overwhelmed by drowsiness, and he could not stay awake a moment longer. He did not awaken until dawn, and then he found his brother missing, though there was no sign of any struggle. He searched through the woods for him, but in vain, and he felt a chill growing in his heart.

As he stood hesitating at the edge of the forest, he saw two birds sitting together in a tree; one was as red as blood, and one was as white as bone. The red bird said, “You wished for the crown, and that you will have.”

The white bird said, “You wished for the people’s love, and that you will have.”

And from the two birds’ shadow that mingled on the branch he heard another voice saying, “And for these things, a price we will have. We are not hungry now, and when some time has passed we will speak again.”

* * *

_The Vision of King Bernat_

Newly-crowned, the king lay restless,  
drowsing in his darkened chamber;  
where the dying fire dwindled,  
redly gleamed the glowing embers.

As the lord was lying sleepless,  
silent slipping, silent creeping  
from the shadows, shapes of darkness  
strange of form appeared before him.

By him stood a bent old woman,  
cloaked with shadows round her shoulders.  
In her hand she held a distaff  
wound with wool as black as sorrow.

Words of ill she darkly uttered:  
‘Lo, the crown is in your keeping.  
Half the price is paid already,  
half is wanting that we wait for.

‘You shall rule while years are passing,  
three times three the throne possessing.’  
So she spoke, her spindle turning,  
twining thread through nimble fingers.

‘Three years let the thread be spinning,  
three years let its length be measured,  
count three years before its cutting;  
then the rest to us be rendered.’

Then her figure sank and folded,  
shrank and vanished into shadow;  
only deeper darkness gathered  
where the fire’s shadows flickered.

Then the king cried out in terror:  
‘Build the fire, build it higher!  
Let the light be always burning:  
drive the dark from every corner.’

Never more in nightly darkness  
slept the king, but closed his eyelids  
with the lamps well-lit around him,  
with the fire blazing brightly.

* * *

 

_Excerpt from the Chronicle of the Abbey of St. Anthelm, on miracles and wonders in the lives of the kings_

This is written of the strange end of King Bernat. It was a peculiarity of this king that he always slept with a fire brightly burning in his bedchamber every night, though no one knew why. He had two servants whose duty it was to sit by the fire all night and feed it with more wood whenever it began to burn low.

In the tenth year of his reign, during the night, the king’s voice was heard shouting for help. His guards and pages rushed in and found him sitting in bed with the covers clutched to his chest, and his face as white as chalk. The king said there was a woman in black who had come into his chamber, and for some time he would speak of nothing else. His guards assured him that no one was there and that no one had come past them to enter the room. The king threatened them with fearful tortures if they lied, but they all said the same thing, and finally he was pacified.

But then he turned to the servants whose task it was to watch the fire. “You must keep the fire burning,” the king said with a wild look in his eyes. “Do you understand me? Tend the fire well all night long and do not fall asleep!”

The servants, very frightened, promised they would do as the king said. But no sooner had the king lain down in bed again then the servants began feeling very sleepy. One of them fell asleep right away, and when the other servant saw that his fellow was asleep, he determined all the more that he would stay awake and obey the king’s command. He rubbed at his eyes, and he tugged on the ends of his hair, and when that was not enough he got up and walked back and forth. But his eyes were so heavy he couldn’t keep them open, and at last he too fell asleep on the rug before the hearth.

When the servant woke up, the fire had burned down almost to nothing and the room was dark and silent. He quickly stirred up the fire until it was roaring, hoping that the king hadn’t noticed his mistake. But the king had vanished and there was no sign of him, save for a single black handprint on the wall, as if someone had laid a hand in the charred wood of the fire.


End file.
